A Strange Encounter
by Leonhard van Euler
Summary: Harry just wanted to be left alone... and one afternoon he goes to the pond behind the Burrow only to find it frozen. One touch is all it takes for his skin to turn blue. Watch as this takes Harry on a quest to find his true parentage.
1. Chapter 1

IMPORTANT: Harry is born in 1990, instead of 1980. This story starts during Harry's sixth year. Christmas holidays which he spends at the burrow.

* * *

They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs Weasley's favourite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless. Fleur, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner, tthat a scowling Mrs Weasley kept pointingg her wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder.

Under cover of a particularly jazzy number called 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love', Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips on flirting. Meanwhile Remus Lupin, who was thinner and more ragged-looking than ever (he had, after all, spent the last few months working as an undercover agent in a Were-Wolf cove), was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though he could not hear Celestina's voice.

 _'Oh, come and stir my cauldron,_

 _And if you do it right_

 _I'll boil you up some hot, strong love_

 _To keep you warm tonight.'_

"We danced to this when we were eighteen!" said Mrs Weasley, wiping her eyes on her knitting. "Do you remember, Arthur?"

The man in question jolted upright in his armchair and hurriedly wiped the drool from his face, eyes darting to his wife - probably to see whether she had seen that he had nodded off. Harry let out a quiet snort and Mr Weasley nodded wholeheartedly - head bobbing up and down.

Harry loosened the collar of his school uniform shirt (it was the only thing that more or less fit him after his sudden growth spurt in Autumn). Mrs Weasley had really overdone it with the warming charms this year - it was simply too hot! Then again he seemed to be the only one uncomfortable with the heat. Everyone apart from him was wearing a thick sweater and drinking scalding tea or hot chocolate.

 _'Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone?_

 _It's left me for a spell..._

Harry snorted in disgust as Mrs Weasley started to sing along. Wheras the woman's voice was usually welcoming and warm - now she sounded like a mandrake getting pulled out of it's pot.

Noticing that everyone's gazes were elsewhere, Harry stood up slowly, and slipped out of the front door, wincing slightly when it creaked.

It was snowing outside. The silver snow flakes that glided down to the ground created the illusion that the earth was covered in diamonds. The white, diamond-like blanket of snow that covered everything in sight elicited a feeling a profound sense of melancholy within Harry but simultaneously had a calming effect on him.

The screeches that Mrs Weasley was still producing within the burrow now seemed quite far away, and Harry found suddenly that the corners of his mouth had tilted upwards. He pressed a hand against his cheek and noted suddenly that the core temperature of his body seemed to have decreased - perhaps that was why he didn't feel cold - even when only wearing a thin oxford shirt.

Harry stepped forward - from under the shelter of the roof - and found himself instantly attacked by the snowflakes he had been just admiring a few minutes ago. He chuckled merrily as the wind and snow cooperated and pelted him with shard like snowflakes.

He took a few more steps forward, noticing briefly that he didn't have any proper shoes on. His house shoes (both embroidered with the Gryffindor House crest, of course), were caked with snow, which was already melting. The icy water was already seeping into his bones but he paid no notice to it... Oddly - it was a welcome feeling.

He'd always loved winter - even though Petunia had, for some reason, decided that throwing a child out of the house without a jacket and shoes was a good punishment. Harry had loved walking around Surrey - hours after hours - just enjoying the winter sun on his face.

Harry glanced back over his shoulder - he'd closed the door, but the window next to it provided a good view into the living room. Mrs Weasley was still sitting next to the radio and had put a hand on her chest. She had thrown her head back and her mouth was open - she was 'singing'. Even from outside, Harry could hear her loud screeches.

Remus Lupin was no longer in deep thought, instead he kept shooting her annoyed glances as he tried to read the prophet.

Forcing himself to look away, Harry slowly creeped along the house and into the overgrown back garden. Memories assaulted him as he crept to the pond - memories of Ron and him throwing gnomes over the hedge, of a band of red-headed children (and one black-haired one) bathing in the frog infested pond, of quidditch games...

Crouching down, Harry looked at the frozen pond. He wondered if any of the Weasley children had ice-skates. Tapping the surface of the frozen pond with a finger, it cracked and the two halves floated apart, revealing unfrozen water underneath. Harry sighed - so much for the ice-skating idea.

Harry was about to withdraw his hand when he noticed something odd. Suddenly he felt his heartbeat increase in frequency due to the shock. Holding his hand up to his face, he was shocked to see a blueish tingle spreading from the tip of his fingers, where he had touched the ice, to the rest of the parts of his hand which had come in contact with the water.

His eyes widened as intricate, runic-like shapes suddenly started appearing on his hand. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Harry let himself fall back onto his behind. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them. Touching his blue fingers to the pulse point of his normal coloured left hand, Harry was shocked to find that his fingers seemed colder than ice - like he'd been held in a huge freezer for over twenty-four hours.

Harry knew he should be panicking more than he was, but as he took another deep breath, Harry rubbed his fingers against each other, creating friction and thus heat. Almost instantly, the blueness started to retreat.

Nevertheless the turmoil within Harry hadn't calmed. Instead, it had only strengthened like a tornado which was constantly gaining speed and momentum.

What the _hell_ had just happened? Was it the pond? Did the pond have some sort of chemicals in it? _Don't be daft, Potter,_ He snarled at himself, _The Weasleys don't even know what a chemical is._

No. This was a problem within himself. His hand had turned bloody blue as a reaction to the cold. This wasn't a normal reaction - even for wizards. A freak among freaks. Harry slammed a fist against the snow, letting out a wince as his hand struck a stone underneath.

Did he have creature blood in his family?

The thought made him shudder. Being a creature - or even part creature didn't disgust him... it was the thought of what the Ministry would do when they found out. The current party with the larger amount of seats in the Wizengamot, were the whigs. They were mainly composed of light families, or Houses that supported the Light's ideals. However, when it came to legislations, the Minster had more power than members of the wizengamot.

He had the right of veto - and the Minister was firmly against magical creatures... especially half-breeds.

The Tories, the second largest political party in the wizengamot was mostly composed of Houses that supported the Dark's ideals. Harry would never admit it out loud (he didn't want any of the Weasleys to overhear him), but he supported their ideals more. They wanted to preserve Wizarding traditions, such as Samhain, Yule and so on. The Whigs on the other hand, simply wanted equality for everyone. They wanted Muggleborns, Half-bloods and Pure-bloods to be completely equal.

This irritated Harry. He knew that the Whigs simply wanted the best for everyone, but they were going about it the wrong way. Muggleborns had to be intergrated into society before they tried to change things. They had to understand what Yule and Shamhain was. Shamhain had already been banned by the Half-bloods and Muggleborns that had accidentally come into power.

They didn't understand, and because of that they banned it.

Harry turned his thoughts to the newly elected Rufus Scrimgeour. The new Prime-Minister was almost the exactly the opposite of what Minister Fudge had been. He was proud, experienced as an auror, and a tad too arrogant. He was also the epitome Gryffindor, courageous, intelligent and loyal... Harry sincerely hoped, that as a Prime-Minister he would be accepting of Magical Creatures.

Harry suddenly reeled. He was going to far - he didn't even know _if_ he was a magical creature. He probably just had some sort of magical illness.

Sufficiently calming himself, Harry stood up and brushed the snow off his dress trousers. They were already wet and he winced as the material stuck to his thighs.

Suddenly, the music that had been coming from within the house (well... if one could call that _music_ ) ceased to play. Evidently Celestina Warbeck - the singer Mrs Weasley had been attempting to impersonate, had finished her Christmas broadcast. Slowly, he started making his way to the house.

The moment he was about to walk in front of the house, Harry curled in on himself, making himself slouch and shuffle to make himself look as unassuming and not tall, as possible. He had in fact grown a great deal in the summer. It had been a sudden growth spurt that had made him taller than most students in his grade. His lean, thin body contributed to that and made him look even taler.

He'd always tried to look unassuming and powerless - it would play to his advantage later on. For that reason Harry had been making himself look small and shy.

He slowly opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Mrs Weasley furiously cooking dinner with Ginny and Fleur. Both women kept shooting the latter one dirty looks and Ginny kept muttering 'Phelgm' under her breath.

The living room was pretty much empty with the exception of Lupin who was sitting in his corner, looking as pensive as ever. He raised his eyes as Harry walked in and frowned briefly. He seemed to sniff the air and Harry tensed. Could Lupin smell the change in him?

"Harry!" He said softly and beckoned him to come closer. Harry clenched his jaw and gracelessly sat down. It was sometimes hard to play the graceless, idiot... but he always reminded himself that no; he needed to do this so that people underestimated him.

"Are you okay Harry? You look like you've seen a ghost?" He paused as he took Harry in - and his wet clothes. He sighed, "Harry, take a coat next time."

Harry shrugged in a defeated way.

"Yeah sure." Lupin looked at him suspiciously but nodded.

...

He had managed to escape the clutches of Mrs Weasley. At some point during their conversation, Lupin had mumbled something about having to get something in his room. Harry had at that moment run upstairs to the attic room which he shared with Ron, and had taken a wad of pounds he had accumulated over the years.

Harry had then slipped out of the back entrance of the Burrow. It was almost ridiculously easy how he had escaped their clutched.

The young man was now walking leisurely down the streets of Ottery St Catchpole - a small town, not far from the Burrow. It was nice to walk down a muggle street without having to look over his shoulder to see whether Dudley and his gang were there or not. It was also the perfect opportunity to stretch his legs, so to speak, and let the defenceless mask drop.

It was a Saturday, and surprisingly quite a few shops were open - usually in towns this small, they closed the shops for the weekend. He wandered down, aimlessly. He had bought some blueberries in the local supermarket and was now popping them into his mouth - one after the other.

It was while he was searching for the next perfect blueberry, that he crashed into a slightly taller and older man. Harry stumbled back a few paces, stepped on a patch of ice, slipped, lost his balance and crashed to the ground. Grunting, Harry slowly sat up, and gently brushed the blueberries off, that had landed upon him.

Just as he was about to stand, an elegant, gloved hand appeared in front of him. Gingerly, Harry took it. He was instantly pulled up to his feet as if he weighed nothing and grunted again as the world spun for a few seconds. When his gaze finally sharpened and focused, he narrowed his eyes.

The man standing in front of him was the very picture of elegance, with a spice of arrogance. His stance was straight and he held himself with dignity and pride. He was dressed in expensive and tasteful clothes that accentuated his calculating, emerald eyes and jet black hair (which had been brushed back to the nape of his neck).

His features were patrician, which were only accentuated by the hollow cheeks and the sharp, aristocratic cheekbones. In his hand he held a cane and was vaguely reminiscent of Lucius Malfoy. He looked very out of place in a town like this.

There was something about the man that Harry found slightly familiar, like he'd seen him some time long ago, very far away.

"My apologies," Harry murmured as he looked down at the blueberries forlornly. Shame... He really liked blueberries.

His eyes glanced up to the man and found that said man had narrowed his eyes at him and was giving him a peculiar look. He chuckled silently and waved a hand.

"It was hardly your fault. I wasn't looking where I was going."

His voice was soft but commanded attention, and once more, Harry had that feeling that he had heard it somewhere before.

"Loki Odinson," The man said and offered a hand to Harry who accepted it gracefully, trying to make up for his fall earlier on. "Harry..." He swallowed, the name Potter was too well known - and this village _was_ after all partly inhabited by magicals. "...Black," He finished. After all - Sirius _had_ named him his sole heir.

Loki - _what an unusual name! -_ raised an eyebrow as they shook hands. "Pleasure."

"Mr Black," Said Loki, seemingly tasting the name on his tongue, "Where do you hail from?"

The corner of Harry's lip turned up in a mock-smile. "I'm afraid my provenance isn't quite illustrious." He said vaguely - he was quite sure this man wasn't a Death-Eater, but one could never be too sure.

Loki cocked his head at the vague answer, obviously curious. "Hm... I knew a Black once. He was a good friend of mine." He stated. Harry bit the inside of his cheek nervously. What if Loki knew - no - it couldn't be possible. There were thousands, millions of Blacks in the world.

Outwardly, Harry only showed cold amusement, "Well... I am most certainly not the only Black around."

Loki smirked, "Too right. Too right." He trailed off, then glanced back to Harry, eyes narrowing once more as if he recognised Harry's face from somewhere, "Nevertheless, do you happen to know a Sirius Black?"

Harry froze, unsure what to say or do. Usually, he enjoyed dancing around people, mocking them... but now he felt frozen. Was this simply a coincidence? How probable was it that he crashed into a man who knew Sirius? Harry reckoned that number was close to zero percent.

"Ah, yes." he found himself saying, "He was my godfather."

It was the other man's turn to freeze. A shadow came over his face and his eyes zeroed on Harry's own taking Harry's face in hungrily, as if afraid that he'd never see him again.

"Harry?" He whispered suddenly, in a very vulnerable voice. "My dear boy... I endanger you by simply being here. I must leave."

But before Harry had a chance to say or do anything, Loki disappeared.

* * *

Ok. I have no idea what this story is going to be about... I just wrote something cause I was bored... Uhm... Should I continue?


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for your reviews! This is going to be a long story and I've already worked out a plot so I know where this story is headed.

Also, I made a mistake during the last chapter. Instead of being born in 1990, Harry was born in 1996.

 _I was asked several times if I could write the scene in which Lily meets Loki. I have decided to make it a sort of parallel story, which will end up joining in the end._

 **Meaning that it's _2012 WHEN HARRY'S IN SIXTH YEAR_. AVENGERS ASSEMBLE (2012 (summer))**

* * *

"Is it the Well of Wisdom because Yggdrasil drinks from it, or does Yggdrasil drink from it because it is the Well of Wisdom?"  
― J. Aleksandr Wootton, _Her Unwelcome Inheritance_

* * *

Being back at Hogwarts after the winter holidays was like coming back home after a particularly long work day. At the Burrow Harry had had to put up a mask of Gryffindor joyfulness and enthusiasm, while in all honestly he had wanted to wallow around like Snape usually did.

Harry couldn't stand Christmas and everything surrounding - the laughter, the presents, the sheer naivety of it all. He had grown up without it - or rather, he had grown up being that House Elf that had to serve and watch but wasn't allowed to join in. His whole life, he had been within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible enthusiasm some people possessed during festive seasons.

At Hogwarts he could drop his mask more often - especially as he was allowed to be alone more often than the gathering of people at the Burrow had permitted him to be. Their inexhaustible energy and enthusiasm had compelled him to constantly do something. He hadn't had a single moment for himself, if one excluded that one moment when he had managed to sneak down to the village. Of course, later on, when Mrs Weasley had found out, hell had been unleashed.

Never yet, had Harry had such a reaction. Not even Petunia and Vernon had ever unleashed such fury at him. Mrs Weasley had, however given him a thirty minute speech about how Harry was in grave danger of being attacked by dementors and Death-Eaters. He was sure that the Lovegoods - who he knew lived not far from the Weasleys (in fact, just a hill away) - had heard her scolding Harry. When said boy had finally been released from her clutches, he'd dragged himself up the stairs, and up the room he shared with Ron. The two Weasley twins had grinned at him on the way up and had patted him on the back.

Nevertheless, being back at Hogwarts gave Harry the little freedom he usually didn't have during the rest of the year. It was ironic, he thought, that other students found delight and enjoyment in their holidays as they were allowed freedoms that were otherwise usually removed. Hogwarts instilled a sense of calmness and thoughtfulness within Harry.

Yet, there was something that kept bothering him. His meeting with the man - Loki Odinson - had disturbed him. So much so, that he now sat in the library, getting hands on every book that could so much as give him a hint as to who he was. He was currently leafing through a book called _Famous Wizards and Witches from the 20th century._ The very same book Hermione had once used while searching for the obscure Nicholas Flamel.

Harry paused at a page near the ver back of the page. A younger looking Albus Dumbledore was smiling back up at him, a hand raised in greeting. It kept moving back and forth every few seconds. His eyes were younger, and instead of half moon glasses, a pair of round, thinner-looking spectacles were perched on his nose. Nevertheless, Harry could see that even then his eyes still twinkled with mirth.

 _Albus Dumbledore is a renown Master of Transfiguration with exceptional skill in Charms, Defence against the Dark Arts and inventions and mechanics. His (and Nicholas Flamel's) discovery of the 12 uses of Dragon Blood however, remains to this day one of his greatest achievements-_

Harry was cut off there, when a shadow covered him and his book. Glancing up, he saw - to his surprise - Luna Lovegood. She was smiling that odd, mysterious smile, like she knew something about you that she couldn't or didn't want to tell you.

"Hello Harry," She said in that airy voice of hers. The corner of Harry's lip turned upwards slightly. Luna was different to the rest of Hogwarts' population. She was… different, and wasn't prejudiced.

"Good afternoon, Luna." He replied, his deep tenor a stark contrast against her high voice.

"Are we still doing DA meetings this year, Harry?" Luna asked suddenly, hugging an edition of _The Quibbler_ to her chest. Harry had a vague sense of _deja vu,_ hadn't she already asked him that earlier in the year?

He shrugged, "Not really. I'm sort of busy this year. And Umbridge isn't here anymore, so it doesn't really make sense."

"Shame," She replied silently, "It was like having friends."

"No. It _wasn't like having friends._ " Harry replied sternly, "We _are_ your friends." Luna gave him a small, sad smile and suddenly Harry understood that she also held up a mask. She too let other people underestimate her. He wondered briefly what her personality without the mask was.

"That's a very kind thing to say." She said as her eyes wandered to the books - an action which showcased her inner Ravenclaw. Her long fingered, pale hand reached towards a book laying discarded, on the corner of the table and she picked it up.

" _Wizarding Names_?" She asked, a hint of bemusement in her voice, "Are you looking to rename yourself?" Before he could reply, she held up a finger to silence Harry and instead focused all of her attention on a spot just a bit to the right of Harry's left ear. Then, after a few seconds, she concentrated her gaze on him once more. "The Wackspurts all agree that Haraldr would fit you."

Harry cracked a smile. "Yes. Odd name - but fitting." He didn't offer any information. He didn't want anyone to know who he was researching. The less information they knew, the better they would sleep.

"Haraldr of _Asgard_ ," She said airily and Harry frowned. There was a particular way she said Asgard and oddly, her eyes glinted with mirth as she did so. Finally, Harry released a sigh of exasperation. Asgard probably was some place where the Wackspurts originated.

"If you're really interested in the person you're looking for, you can always look him up in the Hogwarts register. It registers every student that has ever attended Hogwarts." Before Harry could ask her how she knew that he was searching for someone, or how she knew that something like that existed, she had skipped her way out of the library and into the corridors to which it was connected. Her merry whistling echoed down the hallway.

.

The register, which hadn't been particularly hard to find but much harder to open (as it had required him to break some wards), lay at the foot of his bed as he leafed through it's pages. It was a thick book and probably charmed to be never-ending, as the pages seemed to never really end. Indeed, even when he flipped all of the pages to the left side, another stack seemed to appear on the right. Finally, Harry had used a 'key word finding spell'.

That had revealed that only two students had ever attended Hogwarts with Loki as names. No one had been named Odinson. Both children had been Norwegians, which was an odd coincidence but proved that they weren't Loki Odinson as the man had had a clear and upper class British accent - if a bit old fashioned. Also the fact that one of them had been born in the 17th century and the other in the 18th, further proved that they weren't _the_ Loki.

Finally giving up on his search for the man, Harry stood up and waved his wand. Instantly, all of the books which had been previously laying at the foot of his bed rearranged themselves on his nightstand. He spelled the school register to look like a regular potions spell book. He would return it in the morning.

Now though, Harry pulled on a t-shirt he had inherited from Dudley, grabbed his invisibility cloak and quietly crept out of the sixth year boys dorm room. It was night, but the light of the moon that shone through the round windows of the common room provided him with enough light to stumble through the common room.

His walk to the Owlery was quick and he encountered no one save for a sulking Snape who briefly paused and looked in Harry's general direction. But then obviously finding nothing amiss he continued on his trek back down to the dungeons.

At the Owlery, Harry had removed his cloak and whistled to Hedwig to come down. The obedient owl had flown gracefully down to him, and with a grimace, Harry noticed that her feathers were ruffled and that she didn't seem all that groomed. He hadn't been taking such good care of her as had used to. Patting her head briefly, he started straightening her feathers. The manual work gave his mind a good excuse to wander - something that was rather hard to do whenever he was in Ron's company as he had to unfortunately dumb himself down to be able to converse with the redheaded boy.

Due to his wandering thoughts, he heard the approaching footsteps much too late - and when he had, a figure had already entered the Owlery Tower.

.

The figure was tall but not taller than Harry - who had grown significantly during his growth spurt in the summer. He was dressed in a thick, tailored, richly embroidered, winter cloak. In his gloved hands he held an envelope with a red wax seal with the… Malfoy… crest upon it.

Harry's eyes darted up to the profile of the sharp face which was now cast in light from the moon. Draco Malfoy had frozen, as though he knew someone was watching him and then slowly, he turned his head to face Harry who was sitting next to the rickety table, shrouded in darkness. (The chair and table had been placed there for students who had forgotten to add important details such as their addresses to their letters.)

Then, with a flick of his wrist, a think, short wand appeared in Mafloy's hand. Harry smirked. Wand holster, how very surprising. It was usually an accessory Aurors wore - the rest of the public was either unaware of it, or saw no real need in it. After all, there weren't many professions that required employers to be able to quickly pull out a wand.

Harry stood up silently and gracefully - two traits which were usually hidden with his mask. He straightened him back and pulled out his own wand from his pocket. Perhaps it was time to invest in a wand holster.

"Good evening, Malfoy." Harry said lowly, ready for an attack. Malfoy was unpredictable. Harry didn't know much about him, but he was sure he wouldn't try to Avada Kedavra him… nevertheless, that didn't mean that he wouldn't or couldn't try something else.

Surprisingly, Malfoy nodded in return, "Potter."

"You've been following me." Malfoy finally stated after they had lapsed into a long silence. Harry saw no need in denying it.

"I saw you with Snape. The Dark Lord has set you a task?" He questioned, half expecting Malfoy to curse him right then and there. He raised his wand slightly, prepared to send his own curse. Instead of instantly answering him, Mafloy eyed him shrewdly, taking in Harry's state of dress and his posture that was quite different from usual.

"Yes. But I do not wish to follow through with it." Malfoy stated with an almost imperceptible quiver in his voice. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Well, obviously he does not wish you to kill me," Harry mused aloud, "He sees me as 'his to kill'… he wouldn't let you spoil the fun. Leanne - the girl you cursed to follow your every command - was supposed to give that cursed necklace to someone. But instead, Katie Bell touched it, and found herself cursed." A tiny bit of anger seeped into his last words. Malfoy stared emotionlessly back at him. "Obviously this was not meant for me. I can think of at least a dozen of ways to kill me easily. However… there's someone in this castle who is hard to kill and not very accessible to you."

The answer came almost instantly to Harry and he raised his wand a notch or two. "Dumbledore." Harry finally stated.

Malfoy smirked, but behind the cold mask shrouding his true emotions, Harry saw a young, spoiled boy, terrified about the task that had been set for him. Then suddenly he leaned against the Owlery's wall, sighing deeply.

"Your assumptions are correct." His every word seemed to come out with force as if his loyalty to his family was stopping him from disobeying the Dark Lord, while his morals seemed to conquer that loyalty.

"Well… I can only further assume that you do not really wish to murder Dumbledore. If you had wished to kill him, he would have been long dead. Do not deny it, Malfoy, your half-assed attempts to kill him only prove my theory."

Malfoy gave him a sharp stare, "Brains… I didn't know you had them." Harry rolled his eyes. Then Malfoy straightened again, pressed both of his arms to his sides, and tucked the wand back into his wand holster. As far as Harry could see, this was Malfoy showing Harry vulnerability and simultaneously proclaiming a truce. "You are however once more correct. I do not wish to kill Dumbledore."

He hesitated again, but marched on. "In fact, Potter… I have been thinking about asking you for help."

Harry perked up and stared at the other boy. In all of the time he had known Malfoy, had he ever seen the pure-blood ask for help. His pride and immaturity had disabled him from looking at everything with a grander perspective. Raising an eyebrow, Harry slumped back into his chair, once more disappearing into the shadows. However, his hand - still illuminated by the moon - motioned to Draco to begin.

"As Black's Heir, you have the right to emancipation. After his death," Harry scowled at the boy for reminding him of the fact, "You became his sole heir and inherited everything - including his Lordship." He paused, letting Harry take this information in. Harry remained silent, he already knew this. Dumbledore had told him that in the Dursley's house, during the summer, before they had gone to convince Slughorn to come back to Hogwarts.

"As Lord Black you are legible for emancipation." Harry blinked slightly - really? Why had Dumbledore been hiding that for this whole time?

"What does this have to do with you?" Harry asked harshly. It was the only way he would get information from Malfoy quickly.

The boy hesitated once more, "I-I-I-I am seeking asylum." At the look of surprise and bewilderment on Harry's face, he elaborated, "Once the Dark Lord finds out that I have betrayed him, I am afraid that he will come after me. He cannot come after my father, for he is already in Azkaban. My mother is protected by the Malfoy wards, within them, the Dark Lord cannot hurt her."

"As Lord Black, you would be able to take control of the Black properties, which have more protections than three Hogwarts' put together." He finished slightly out of breath and with embarrassed, red cheeks.

Harry stared back at him, eyebrows raised, but otherwise expressionless. Inwardly, though, he was experiencing a turmoil of emotions. Betrayal was perhaps one of the most prominent of emotions. While he had never fully trusted Dumbledore - the Slytherin in him had always made sure he wasn't completely lacking of cunning - but betrayal like this stung. Obviously, Dumbledore didn't want Harry to gain emancipation, like that he would lose his power over the boy-who-lived.

Almost as if intuitively noticing Harry's trail of thought, Malfoy said, "Dumbledore probably never told you so that he could hold a firm grasp over your power as the boy-who-lived. As Lord Black, however, your power is politically significantly larger. The Black family has inherited six seats in the Wizengamot. With Dumbledore as your magical guardian (and I don't doubt that he is), he is allowed to control those seats to his own means."

Harry let the back of his head fall against the wall. He kept an eye on Malfoy of course, making sure the boy didn't try anything. Then again, the boy didn't seem to be lying.

For as long as Harry could remember, he had always been able to tell when someone was lying to him. Now he thought that it was probably a trait that he had inherited from whoever had given him his blue skin. Draco Malfoy, however, seemed to emit nothing but honesty and hesitance.

Focusing on Malfoy once more, Harry's gaze sharpened.

"And you know this how…?"

"My mother is a Black. Therefore she was invited to the reading of Sirius Black's will and I tagged along. My mother hoped he would leave one of the properties to her so that she could finally escape the Dark Lord's influence."

 _The reading of Sirius Black's Will._ Harry felt an abnormal feeling of serenity and calmness overtake his senses. He was beyond angry. How had Dumbledore ever felt that it was appropriate for him to withhold such information from Harry?

"Very well." Harry finally stated, after mulling it over. "I shall try to protect you."

A small smirk graced Malfoy's aristocratic features. But Harry hadn't finished yet.

"On a few conditions." Harry stated with finality in his voice. Malfoy really wanted this protection from Harry and Harry would damn well exploit that desperation. Malfoy's smirk grew slightly in surprise as if not really expecting that, but was pleasantly surprised.

"How very Slytherin of you." He remarked. Harry glared.

"I wish for you to vow an Unbreakable Vow so that you will not betray me." A slightly unhappy expression passed over Malfoy's face but it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"I also require you to teach me pureblood traditions, politics and etiquette."

His last statement elicited a small sound of surprise from Malfoy. His eyes widened comically and he stared at Harry.

"W-Why?!"

"There are many things one cannot learn from textbooks, Malfoy, and that is one of them." He paused for a moment, "Also, if I am going to take control of six seats in the Wizengamot, I want to know what I'm doing."

"Finally, I wan't you to swear your allegiance to me, and only to me. I know you have a Dark Mark on your arm and I believe with some research, I shall be able to break the spell. I assume The Dark Lord used a spell in parceltongue to brand you?"

Malfoy nodded weakly. "But how will you break it-"

"People have generally been... underestimating me," Harry said with a cruel smirk, "I am quite a genius when I want to be. Now, do you accept my terms?"

Malfoy looked uncertain, his lip was trembling slightly, but he was trying to keep himself together. Harry watched as he slowly massaged his left arm as if wishing it weren't there.

"You need me more than I need you." Harry said with a smirk, as he held his arms wide open. Malfoy narrowed his eyes, then came to a decision and snarled at him.

"Oh, you manipulative bastard!" Harry laughed openly - it was nice to finally reveal his true personality to someone. Inwardly, Harry winced, hoping that Malfoy was wrong about him being an illegitimate child. He _wanted_ to be James Potter's son.

"I accept those terms." Malfoy finally said with a defeated tone.

"Very well," Said Harry, before clasping both of his hands together. "Shall we do the Unbreakable Vow, then?" Without waiting for a response, Harry pulled out his wand, "DOBBY!"

Almost instantly, the excitable House-Elf appeared right in front of Harry, startling Malfoy slightly, who scowled as soon as he realised who it was.

"Father is still furious with you for taking away his elf." Malfoy stated suddenly smirking. Harry chuckled lowly.

"Master Harry Potter! It is an honour for yous to call on me!" The Elf squeaked and Harry was suddenly very glad that they were quite far away from the castle.

"Dobby. I wish to cast an Unbreakable Vow with Draco Malfoy, I want you to hold my wand while we do so." Harry ordered quietly. The Elf turned suddenly and faced Malfoy, surprise and fear suddenly appearing on the former's face.

"Draco Malfoy is bad boy!" The elf exclaimed suddenly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"No Dobby. Malfoy is a nice guy. I go to the pub with him every other Saturday." Harry said, sarcasm dripping off every word. Dobby didn't bat an eyelash, probably as he hadn't recognised the sarcasm. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

This seemed to calm the Elf down, but he still shot Malfoy a suspicious look when both old and new masters took hold of each other's hand. Malfoy shot Harry a glance which was a mixture of a glare and a smirk.

Then slowly, Dobby raised Harry's wand and let it hover a few centimetres over their joined hands. He looked unhappy about it all, but he was unable to disobey his master. Harry turned his gaze to Malfoy and narrowed his eyes at the smirk on the latter's face.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, swear to bring me to a safe-house at the end of this school year and keep my person away from harm?" Malfoy said slowly making sure that he didn't leave any loopholes. Harry could, however already see several loopholes.

"Yes, I do." A string of fire danced out of Harry's wand and wound itself around their joined hands.

"Do you swear to tell no one of our arrangement?" Malfoy stated a few seconds later and Harry frowned inwardly - was Malfoy intentionally leaving such a gaping loophole?

"Yes, I do." Malfoy stared at him shrewdly, and then nodded, satisfied with Harry's vows.

"Do you, Draco Mal-"

"It's Draco Lucius Malfoy." The blonde corrected silently.

"Do you, Draco _Lucius_ Malfoy, swear to never to divulge our agreement - whether it'd be via writing, occlumency or legilimency, spoken speech, body language or any other way?" Malfoy gritted his teeth, knowing instantly he had made a mistake. The boy was too spoiled, he had never had any reason to be so untrustworthy like Harry had been forced to become.

"Yes, I do." He finally stated after a few moments of silence.

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to teach me, Harry James Potter, pureblood traditions, etiquette and politics?"

"Yes I do." A fourth ring of fire surrounded their joined hands and Harry suddenly felt it's uncomfortable heat.

Harry, with his eyes still focused on Malfoy, nodded to Dobby, who instantly dropped the wand and handed it back to Harry. Said boy drew his hand back, ignoring the tingling pain surrounding the back of his hand and wrist. Draco Malfoy glanced down at the letter he had been about to send but seemed to come to a decision and stuck it back into his cloak pocket.

Malfoy chuckled suddenly. "Look at us - sworn school enemies - agreeing on a truce." He let out another unbelieving laugh. Harry smiled grimly.

"That's what one does when wars loom at the horizon."

Suddenly the atmosphere in the Owlery turned sour as both young men mulled over the significance of that statement. Even the owls, hanging on perches above them, grew silent as if respecting their grief and melancholy.

Finally Harry stood up and stretched his legs, he turned to Dobby, who was staring at them with wide, watery eyes.

"That will be all, Dobby." Said elf disappeared with a silent pop. "Good evening, Malfoy. I'll send you a letter when I find time for our first lesson."

The Malfoy Heir didn't utter a sound but he tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, and with that, Harry made his way out of the Owlery, wondering if he had done the right thing.

.

The moment he was back outside, he felt his head clear - as if all of his troubles suddenly melted away from him. Glancing down at his fingers Harry noted that they were turning blue much quicker than they had the first time.

It was getting harder for him to suppress it. Gritting his teeth, Harry rubbed his fingers against his palms, warming them up. He had to hide this… He didn't want to know what the Ministry would do if they found out.

.

Loki took a deep breath as he leaned back into his armchair. His wife, Sigyn, was massaging the back of his neck, muttering words of comfort. Their marriage had been arranged many aeons ago, and now after those many, many years Loki found himself loving her in an odd, twisted way.

"What is troubling you, my Lord?" Sigyn asked as she kneaded her knuckles into a tense spot on Loki's neck. He winced a bit. What was troubling him? Well... A lot. He had discovered today that he had a son. A fourth child... and considering what had happened with all of his other children... well... Loki wasn't very eager to have another one. He didn't want another child to suffer the way his other children had. Taking a deep breath, Loki covered his face with a hand. He needed to meet the boy... he _wanted_ to meet the boy.

He had to ask what had happened to his mother, after all... he had loved her dearly. A small, tender smile graced his face as he remembered how he had met her for the first time.

 _Flashback_

 _Loki chuckled merrily as he waggled his fingers and suddenly Sif's and Volstagg's leather boot laces were magically tied together. Both warriors were unprepared for this and when they both took their next unsuspecting steps, they found themselves falling. One fell upon Fandral and the other against Hogun. Volstagg being so large (impressively large in fact) managed to also topple a market stall filled to the brim with bottles of wine, mead and ale._

 _The market was joyful as there was no reason to be morose. War hadn't been an actual topic on Asgard for many years now… peace had reigned for a long time. Of course, there were a few skirmishes every now and then, but these were only an excuse for the Warriors Three and Sif - Thor's best friends - to exercise their bodies for a bit._

 _Loki sometimes accompanied his brother on these outings as he enjoyed playing tricks on unsuspecting people and everyone at Asgard had come to expect his tricks. Even now, Volstagg and Sif were untying their laces and then tying them up again, while glaring around - most probably searching for him._

 _Loki chuckled once more and was about to teleport when he felt a tug at the bottom of his navel. His eyes widened as he realised what this signified: someone was summoning him… from Midgard!_

 _The last time such a thing had happened, Midgard had been ruled by savages and the Scandinavians had worshipped Asgard and everyone within it. Admittedly, Loki had never been a really liked god but some thieves, 'magicians' and pranksters had worshipped him with hysteria and passion almost no other god had ever received. His followers had been few, but passionate and fervent._

 _Midgard had since then evolved. They had a civilisation now, not as exceptionally evolved as Asgard, but nevertheless, noteworthy. They no longer believed in the ancient gods - instead they now had different religions and each one of them believed their faith was the correct one._

 _In the Ancient Times, Loki had often ignored summons as they had been common and often a nuisance to deal with - but now, after waiting for more than a millennia, Loki found himself curious. And so, he allowed himself to be summoned._

 _He appeared in the middle of a perfect chalk circle, decorated with lit candles and offerings. Loki smothered a chuckle, even now his would-be disciples were ever so passionate. Gazing around majestically, he spotted four figures kneeling next to five four poster beds. They were all staring at him, unbelieving._

 _"Merlin." Said one - the bags under his eyes were prominent and his rectangular spectacles were slipping off his nose. He looked like a scholar. "It actually worked."_

 _The three other boys were still frozen in shock - well until the seemingly taller of the four (a hazel-eyed boy with a mischievous look in his eye) bowed his head and said, "We kneel before You, Loki God of tricksters and lies and offer our riches to You." He said in a dramatic and reverent voice. Loki smirked._

 _"You may rise." he said in an equally dramatic voice._

 _The four boys rose and stared up at him with adoring eyes._

 _"Ask and you shall receive." Loki continued. All four boys glanced at each other, blinking in confusion as if they hadn't thought this over. They probably hadn't. Then the leader of the four - the one who had spoken earlier spoke: "My name is James Potter, these are my friends, Sirius Black," He gestured to a thin, sallow cheeked boy with an elegant stance, "Remus Lupin," He waved a hand at the studious boy, "and Peter Pettigrew," he finished, pointing at a chubby small boy._

 _"We wish you to continue your noble work on Earth-"_

 _"Midgard," interrupted Lupin._

 _"Yeah, Midgard. We are seeking wisdom on the matter."_

 _Loki chuckled openly this time. These boys were obviously pranksters. Loki hoped they were good ones too, as he found himself liking them. They were young, but their eyes already glinted with mischief and power. Narrowing his eyes at them, Loki mulled over what he should do. He could just leave with a pop and go back to Asgard… or he could help these boys get on the track to greatness. Finally coming to a decision, Loki waved a hand, majestically and almost instantly, a book appeared in his hand._

 _It was a nondescript book, or rather, it_ looked _like one. Inside the magically enhanced and enlarged book, was a wealth of knowledge and information on pranking. With a swish of his palm, the book started floating over to the boys, and finally dropped at the feet of the leader, who picked it up with reverence._

 _It was at that moment that the door to the dormitory was slammed open and the dramatic spell was broken. In the doorway - which now let light into the otherwise darkened room - stood a girl. She was about the same age as the boys, but there was a certain maturity to her that the other boys didn't have. Her red hair fanned out around her head, giving her emerald eyes fire. They were vivid and full of passion - and anger._

 _Loki raised an eyebrow at the smaller, chubbier boy. Said boy blushed. The girl had obviously come in, intending to chastise the boys for a prank they had done, but as her gaze fell on Loki, the anger fell away from her face, leaving a mixture of surprise and fear there._

 _Loki smirked. And she exploded._

 _"James Charles Potter!_ What _is the meaning of this!" Her voice was more or less calm, but filled with danger, anger and hate. This obviously seemed to frighten him terribly._

 _"Lily this is not what it looks like! We were… uh…" He looked towards his friends for help. The handsome, sallow faced one stepped forward._

 _"We were just summoning the Norse God Loki," He said casually._

 _There was a moment of deathly silence and when 'Lily's' gaze moved to Loki, he smirked and waved a hand._

 _"The pleasure is mine." He said, charm dripping on every word and with that he wiggled his fingers in farewell and disappeared back to Asgard, his job done._

.

"So what is the matter, Loki?" Sigyn finally repeated. Loki placed a comforting hand on her own massaging hand.

"Nothing's the matter, my dear Sigyn."

* * *

Review? *u*


	3. Chapter 3

_"I love Norse Mythology, I love gladiators, I love war stuff."_

 _~Tyson Chandler_

* * *

Harry's lip curled as he though of the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had just returned from one of his 'private lessons' with the man which Harry was now starting to think were absolutely useless.

In the summer, Dumbledore had asked Harry to have private lessons with him. Harry had been excited if a bit apprehensive. The headmaster wasn't a bad person per se, but he had a manipulative streak that sometimes bordered a little on sociopathic. The man's motto seemed to be 'for the greater good' and he seemed to want to stop at nothing to complete it.

Despite this, Harry acknowledged that Dumbledore was a magical prodigy and a genius and had therefore looked very much forward to their 'private lessons'. These had, however, turned out to be a rather large disappointment. So far, Harry had had two lessons with Dumbledore, and together they had delved into Voldemort's history, which while useless, proved to be quite interesting.

Well… these 'lessons' on Voldemort's history had proved to be quite useless… up until now.

Harry walked slowly back to the Gryffindor common room fidgeting with his after-curfew pass that Dumbledore had given him. During their last lesson, the Headmaster had revealed Voldemort's incessant thirst for immortality and power. Dumbledore had also finally revealed the reason behind learning Voldemort's biography.

As a young man, Voldemort had apparently shown an interest in Hocruxes (whatever that was) and had approached Slughorn with questions about said magical artefact. Together with Dumbledore, they had viewed Slughorn's memory of that incident. Unfortunately, Slughorn had messed with that memory and they hadn't been able to properly view it.

Harry had, however already been informed by Dumbledore what Horcruxes were and while he often thought that some restrictions on some Dark magic were absolutely bogus (after all, he had tried some dark magic out - behind Hermione's back of course), he honestly thought that acquiring immortality via splitting one's soul was simply barbaric.

Nevertheless, Dumbledore had tasked him with retrieving the true memory from Slughorn. Apparently, the man held the key to finding out exactly how many Horcruxes Voldemort had managed to fabricate.

Harry was distracted from his thoughts, as a pompous and very high voice stopped him in his track. He blinked in surprise and turned his gaze upwards to the portrait of the fat lady and suddenly realised that he had reached the entrance to the Gryffindor Common room.

"Password?"

Harry cleared his throat and let his Gryffindor mask slip onto his face. "Quid agis," he replied briefly wondering who set up the password. The Fat Lady harrumphed and her portrait swung to the side, allowing Harry to enter the common room.

"Harry!" Cried Hermione the moment Harry entered. The latter sighed inwardly, suddenly feeling very tired of having to uphold his Gryffindor mask and reputation. His recent fatigue was most probably due to the fact that he now often had to concentrate to keep his skin at a human-like colour. His control had already slipped a few times while in DADA - Snape was becoming even more unbearable than ever.

The common room was deserted, save for Hermione, Ron, Harry and a few seventh years studying in a candle-lit corner of the room. Hermione and Ron were seated in the scattered armchairs surrounding the largest fire-place in the room and currently, Hermione was patting the third armchair, trying to get Harry to sit there.

Harry wrinkled his nose (he didn't particularly want to sit so close to the fireplace as heat had become a very uncomfortable thing indeed) but he complied with her wishes.

"So… How was it this time?" Ron asked hesitantly, glancing at Hermione nervously. Ever since they had had a fight about Ron's choice of girlfriend, he and Hermione hadn't been on the best of terms. Harry smirked to himself - they were probably insatiably curious about his meeting with Dumbledore to be in the same room.

"It was alright. We covered some of Voldemort's childhood and his thirst for immortality." Harry wasn't sure what - but something restrained him from telling them about the Horcruxes.

"I still don't get why you have to know 'bout his life to put him six feet under." Ron said, bemusement clear on his face. Hermione shot him a scandalous glare.

"Ron!" She exclaimed, most probably horrified by his language.

"What - it's no better than Fred and George's 'U-No-Poo'." He was referring to the twin's new product which caused constipation if consumed, it also simultaneously made fun of Lord Voldemort. Hermione looked less than impressed and Harry cracked a small smile.

Upholding his Gryffindor mask sometimes got a bit hard, especially when Ron's lack of tact and extreme courage aka foolishness started grating on his nerves. Nevertheless, he liked Ron and Hermione and felt a little guilty sometimes for having to hide his true intellect and personality from them.

Harry leaned back into his plushy armchair and watched his two friends bicker like an old married couple. Noticing Harry's minute movement from the corner of her eye, Hermione turned to face him once more.

"Harry…" She hesitated for a moment. "You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, alright? But Ron and I have noticed that ever since Christmas you have become even more withdrawn than before - you spend so much time in the library and in the Room of Requirement. We understand of course… I mean Snape, the war …Sirius… have all had a toll on all of us, but we wanted to ask whether there was anything else on your mind?"

Harry gazed at them thoughtfully, trying to find a way to answer that question. Had his behaviour really been that off? One would have thought that after six years of pretending to be someone he was not, Harry would have become a decent actor. Sighing, Harry cleared his head.

Well… He had met a puzzling individual (who had claimed he was putting Harry in danger by just being there with him), he was turning blue in the cold, he most probably had creature blood in him - probably from the Potter side, Snape was now the teacher of his favourite subject _and_ now, he now had to retrieve a memory from Slughorn.

Suddenly realising he was taking too long in thinking up an answer, Harry focused his eyes on his two best friends who were looking at him concernedly and smiled, "Everything's alright, Hermione."

.

It was nearly a week later that Harry finally found something regarding the abnormal colour his skin would become whenever he came into contact with something cold.

He'd managed to get a pass from Slughorn into the restricted section of the library. All he'd had to do was figuratively bat his eyelashes and state that he was really interested in NEWT level potions. Without hesitation, (and perhaps a little to exuberantly) Slughorn had given Harry a pass.

NEWT potions was of course, the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, Harry had almost obsessively searched for any book on magical creatures. He'd been looking for a book that had been referenced in another when a thick, leather bound book had caught his eye. Most books in the library were in pristine condition, as many of them were held under a stasis or preserving charm. However, this book looked worn and beaten, the paper was yellow and stank of mould.

 _Curiosity killed the cat_ , that thought had briefly gone through his mind but he had discarded it almost immediately. After all, books _usually_ didn't kill, right?

In the book, he had discovered several mythological creatures, some of which Harry had thought were fiction - even in the magical world.

Nevertheless, the creature that had caught his attention was the _Jotun_.

Jotuns were creatures which originated from Jotunheim, one of the nine worlds from Norse Mythology. These… Jotuns, were giants and lived on a frozen world. They were permanently blue and a single touch from one of these giants gave the touched one life-threatening frostbite. They had runic-like markings on their bodies which were supposed to show what clan a Jotun belonged to.

According to the text, Jotuns feared Odin and Thor. It wasn't specified who they were, but a footnote at the end of the page, gave reference to another book titled ' _Norse Mythology: Fully explained_ '.

Harry closed the book once he finished the entry about Jotuns. There was something about the whole text that stirred unease within him.

Loki _Odinson_.

Harry let out a chuckle. It was unfortunate to be named after someone from Norse Mythology. Perhaps Loki - the man he had met in the village near the Burrow - was of Norwegian descent?

Placing the book back on the shelf, Harry exited the library, and started making his way to the unused library where he had agreed to meet with Malfoy for their first lesson.

Jotuns intrigued him, they were so similar to Harry in so many ways. The blue skin, rune-like marks on his blue skin, his ability to bear extremely cold weather. There were… some inconsistencies though. For one, Harry certainly wasn't a giant. He would tower over most of his year if he stood straight, but he wasn't a giant. He also didn't have permanent blue skin, and he certainly didn't live on Jotunheim.

Harry gritted his teeth in frustration, unable to solve the riddle. Jotuns were mythological creatures - but why was he so similar to them? Perhaps, back when the Norwegians had invented the stories, Jotuns had been based on real magical creatures that were now extinct? Was there some of this creature blood in him?

.

Malfoy was standing impatiently in front of the unused classroom. He stood regally, with his arms crossed and head tilted upwards. He was tapping his foot impatiently.

"Finally, Potter!" He said, slightly unpleasantly. "I thought you weren't going to show."

Harry shrugged, "I didn't notice the time fly by in the library."

Malfoy scoffed, obviously not believing that Harry was actually spending his free time studying.

With an elegant gesture of his wand and a murmured spell, the door swung open and both young men filed in.

"This is a list of books about the wizarding government. You can order them via owl." Malfoy passed a hastily written list of books to Harry, the instant they had closed the door and lit the room.

Harry took it with great interest, read through it and put it in his pocket for later reference.

"Today I thought we could start with etiquette. I can't teach you a lot about politics if you don't know the basics - so read those books at your earliest convenience." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"Obviously, there aren't many books about wizarding etiquette. It is something that is usually passed down from parent to child. As an aristocratic pureblood-" Malfoy straightened his back at this and Harry rolled his eyes at his arrogance, "-I grew up learning all of these things. Wizarding society demands three things," he held up three fingers and let each finger drop with each social expectation that he mentioned, "One: Power. The more of it one has, and the larger one's aura is, the more wizards will respect you for your powerful bloodline."

The boy paused, gazing at Harry and silently asking him whether he understood everything so far.

"Two," Another finger fell, "Conversational and manipulative tactics and skills-"

"Slytherins are _very_ well versed in that," Harry snorted slightly sarcastically, thinking of Crabbe and Goyle.

"Indeed," Malfoy said with another smirk before realising that was an insult and he rolled his eyes. "And three," His hand became a fist, "The amount of seats one has in parliament, and contacts. Wealth also falls into this category. Etiquette falls into the second category. If one behaves well, has an intellectual mind and maintains good form, one is instantly more respected."

Harry nodded, to show that he was following.

.

It was almost an hour later - an hour before curfew - that Harry remembered what Malfoy had said about his emancipation. He was about to question his fellow student, when suddenly said boy levitated another book to the ever-growing stack of books on Harry's head.

Harry grunted slightly under the weight but did his best to pull his shoulders back and continue walking in circles around the abandoned classroom as though nothing had happened. Apparently, this exercise was supposed to teach him how to walk properly; with a slightly arrogant tilt of his head, shoulders back, straight back and a slightly haughty look on his face. As Harry did the latter - albeit a very exaggerated version of it - he found him unable to stop the giggles at the affronted look Malfoy gave him.

"I'll have you know, Potter, that that is how _all_ purebloods with the proper status behave," Malfoy said sniffing. Harry chuckled again and two tomes fell from his head.

"I swear you look like peacocks half the time," said Harry laughing harder this time. The last book fell and joined the rest on the floor.

"Potter, if you are here to insult my heritage and the traditions of the wizarding world then I see no reason for us to continue this." Malfoy's expression had darkened somewhat and he was now sneering at Harry.

Harry gracefully bowed his head in apology - an action which Malfoy had taught him earlier in the lesson, "I meant no offence. My apologies."

Mafloy eyes him shrewdly with narrowed eyes, then nodded slightly, accepting the apology.

With a swish of Harry's wand, all of the conjured books still laying on the ground disappeared.

"Before our lesson comes to an end… Well, I was meaning to ask you something, Malfoy."

Said boy raised an eyebrow, silently inquiring what the matter was.

"When we met in the owlery, you said that I was viable for emancipation as I have inherited the Black Lordship. I-" Harry paused briefly, eying the Mafloy heir slightly suspiciously, "I do not know much about the Magical Government save for the few parties and their ideals-"

"-You want to know how to become emancipated?" Malfoy interrupted. Harry nodded once, and clasped his hands behind his back mirroring Malfoy's own relaxed stance.

"Very well," the blonde murmured, "It will be quite simple in your case as your guardians are Muggles." Seeing Harry's confused stare, he elaborated. "In a wizarding court, Muggles aren't recognised as part of our world. In a way, they have as many rights as magical creatures. It is common knowledge that the boy-who-lived grew up with Muggles, however, no one knows where." Malfoy paused for a moment, unclasped his hands and conjured (or probably summoned) a small scroll of high-end parchment and a quill.

"I assume that in the Muggle World, they have guardianship over you," Harry nodded once in confirmation. Malfoy bit his lip for a moment, obviously thinking his options over. "This means that you have a magical guardian-"

"Wait, so does that mean that muggle-borns have magical guardians too?"

Malfoy shook his head, "No. They are not recognised as part of the wizarding world until they become of age. Until then, only muggle laws apply to them, save for underage magic laws."

"Thats… a bit… severe?" Harry said slowly, "That means that Hermione wasn't even a person in the wizarding world until she turned seventeen in September… But why do I have a magical guardian then?"

"Orphans - even muggleborn ones - have one as there is no one to represent them."

Harry 'ahhed' silently.

"So who is my magical guardian? I assume Dumbledore?" Harry frowned at that - why hadn't Dumbledore ever told him that?

"Yes - orphans attending Hogwarts receive Dumbledore (the Headmaster) as a guardian."

"Anyway," Malfoy said sharply as he saw Harry slowly turn to his thoughts, "As you are a half-blood you need to gain emancipation from both Muggle and Wizarding courts. The Muggle one won't be a problem - the _Muggle Liaison Office_ will handle it - but the wizarding one… will be a little harder. Dumbledore cannot know of this, if he does he will do anything - _anything_ \- to stop you from escaping his direct control. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded once, suddenly understanding the severity of the situation.

"You will have to compose a letter to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - to the Child services and Heredity Office. They will recommend a barrister and they will start to write up a court case for you…"

It took them another half hour for Malfoy to help Harry compose a letter to that department. By the end of their 'lesson', Malfoy looked quite smug.

.

Somehow, the notion of playing quidditch wasn't as appealing as it had been a few months ago. For some unexplainable reason, Harry suddenly felt hesitant to take part in the match.

Harry wrinkled his nose slightly as he clutched his broomstick closer to himself, eyeing the stormy clouds above him with distaste. Every now and then, a bolt of lightning would flash through the sky. Glancing through the window of the Gryffindor Quidditch locker room, he noticed that the teachers seemed generally unconcerned. Snape, however, was sitting in his usual place in the stands and kept looking up hesitantly.

Then it started to rain.

Harry almost laughed out loud when he saw the surprised expression on the potion master's face as suddenly his hair was soaked wet in a matter of seconds. Served the bastard right. At least his hair was finally going to be clean.

Turning to his team, Harry saw that they were all staring at him expectantly - obviously waiting for the traditional speech. Harry bit his lip.

"Er… Good luck out there today," He glanced out of the window again - the rain was getting stronger, "The weather's kinda crap."

Ron snorted. "Mate, that would be an understatement."

"Oooh, using big words now - Ronnie?" Ginny taunted slightly. Ron scowled at her. Harry raised a placating hand and Ron's retort died in his mouth.

"Look. Just play as you have for the past few months. Use the strategies we went over in practice - don't hesitate to slam bludgers into the Slytherins."

The two Gryffindor Beaters grinned and exchanged a mischievous glance. "Hear! Hear!" They chanted.

"Well, then… lets get this over with."

The pitch was soggy, and Harry stared at his feet, disgusted as he saw his boots already covered with mud. He joined the captain of the Slytherin team - Draco Malfoy at the centre of the field.

Malfoy was smirking smugly and Harry suddenly knew why - he assumed that Harry would have a hard time seeing anything in the rain because of his glasses. Unluckily for him, Harry had charmed them beforehand.

"Captains, shake hands." Madame Hooch said, her voice echoing around the stadium. For a moment, neither Malfoy nor Harry raised their hands, then almost simultaneously they grabbed each other's hand.

"May the best man win," Harry hissed at the boy. Malfoy smirked arrogantly and mounted his broom. Harry mirrored his actions.

"I intend to." He hissed back.

.

The match was intense and Harry suddenly found that his Quidditch skills were being tested very severely. Flying on broomsticks in weather like that was dangerous - very dangerous.

Wind whipped around him, making his broom jerk around uncontrollably. His robes were flapping around him, making it hard for him to concentrate - especially as they had gold trimmings.

Rain crashed mercilessly against himself and the other players. And after several minutes in the air, Harry found himself drenched, cold and shivering.

"Draco Malfoy has seen the snitch! Surprising, really. There are so many wackspurts around his head." Said a dreamy voice which suddenly brought a grin to Harry's face and he glanced down at the Commentator's Box and saw Luna. The girl truly was a wonder.

Harry did not follow Malfoy, instead he moved lazily in the other direction. He had seen a glint of gold there a few moments ago. There was no doubt that Malfoy was bluffing.

Then… Suddenly out of nowhere - Harry saw it! Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy still flying lowly around the other end of the pitch. Harry slowly started making his way towards the snitch knowing that he was too far up to come down quickly. Despite Malfoy being at the other end of the pitch - he was still closer to it.

And then Harry dived.

"The Asgardia- ahhh - no Harry Potter has seen the snitch!" Luna's dreamy voice echoed through the stadium. Harry barely registered her voice.

Instead he was was falling. Harry let out a cry of joy as he let himself free fall. The wind whipped around him, and the rain still clashed against his face, but the feeling of actually diving… the adrenaline - this was what Quidditch was about.

Then… out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy approaching him. If he didn't swerve off, Malfoy would knock him off his broom… and Slytherins weren't above that!

Gritting his teeth, Harry leaned forward, gently commanding his broom to go faster. The ground was getting closer… And then suddenly, Malfoy had swerved and had aligned himself downwards.

Glancing to his left, Harry noticed that Malfoy was less then twenty centemetres away from him… and they were both racing at the ground. Harry heard cheers, and gasps of shock… and cries of despair but he tried his best to block them out. Instead, he turned his gaze at the snitch.

And then… so suddenly that Harry barely had time to react… the snitch had swerved upwards, merely a metre above the ground. Harry grit his teeth and pressed on downwards… if he timed it right…

Malfoy swerved away, obviously to scared to take the risk. Harry grinned maliciously and then… at the last moment… he swerved upwards. He stretched his hand out and plucked the snitch out of the air just as he was flying past it.

Cheers erupted around him and Harry found himself grinning.

"Potter! Potter! Potter! Potter!" The Gryffindor's were chanting and Harry felt that sudden sense of euphoria he always felt after winning a match.

He did a lap of victory around the pitch, holding the snitch high above his head.

Despite all of this… Harry couldn't shake that feeling off that someone had been watching him the entire time.

.

"Hey!" Harry shouted loudly. A few students in the hallway turned to stare at him. Harry ignored them and pressed onwards. "Luna! Hey! Wait up!"

The girl in question stopped walking - well… meandering - down the hallway, stopped and turned to him.

"Haraldr of Asgard!" She curtsied slightly. Harry blinked at her and was slightly reminded as to why he had wanted to speak to her in the first place.

"Luna - erm - Asgard… What is that?"

"Thor of Asgard, son of Odin of Asgard son of Bor of Asgard!" Luna sang quietly staring at Harry through a pair of peculiar, pink-tinted glasses.

Harry blinked at her, utterly bemused. "Thor… Odin… what?" he had a feeling he had heard of those names before, and searching his memory Harry suddenly remembered those names from that mythology textbook he had read about a week ago. His eyes widened.

"Oh… I've been so stupid!" Harry exclaimed, grabbing his own face with his hands and giggling quietly. A Ravenclaw girl walked past them and sneered - obviously thinking the same.

"Thank you so much Luna!" He exclaimed and ran off to the library not realising that Luna had once again called him as Haraldr of Asgard.

The library was empty, save for a few seventh year Ravenclaws actually using their free blocks to study. Harry winced slightly as he remembered that he had transfiguration. Hermione wouldn't be happy that he was skipping the class. McGonagall would probably deduct points. And give him detention.

Rushing towards the isle where he had found the book on Norse Mythology, Harry instantly gazed at the collection of books. Finally finding the correct one, he pulled it out, and excitedly opened the page on jotuns.

And there… in black and white… was a five page long story about the war between Asgard and Jotunheim… about the king of Asgard - Odin - and his sons - Thor… and Loki!

Harry let out a shout of victory and earned a glare from Madame Pince (who was putting away a pile of books some student had left behind). He ignored her however, and slumped down into a chair at a study table.

So the Loki he had met in the Yule Holidays… could he be this one? Could the Jotuns be real? As far as Harry could see, he was a half-Jotun. It was the only thing that made sense. Maybe Norse Mythology was real? Maybe Loki… and Asgard, and Odin and Thor were all real? Could it be possible.

Harry exhaled slowly, and shut the book.

He had questions and there was only one person who could give him the answers to his questions.

He need to find Loki Odinson.

.

It was illogical really, how well Harry Potter rode his broom. Loki scowled at the sky. Thor was angry… or perhaps in mourning. After all, he did believe that Loki had died in the void while trying to destruct Jotunheim.

Loki scowled again as he saw lightning light the quickly darkening sky. This was freak weather, obviously caused by his _brother_. If the man didn't gain control of his raging emotions, Midgard would soon be enveloped in a huge, infinite storm.

"Ginny Weasley takes the quaffle from Vaisey." There was a collective 'ooh' as Vaisey and another mean sort of fellow with Urquhart written on his green robes, pushed into the Weasley girl. She fell from her broom.

Loki winced slightly. Why did people play this outrageously dangerous game?! He still remembered when Lily Potter had tried explaining it to him. That had been the night she had fallen in love with him… and had started an affair with him - NO! He wouldn't think about her.

Loki gritted his teeth and focused on the game. She was dead. She wasn't coming back. Even Hela - his daughter and goddess of Death - couldn't bring her back.

Harry was lazily flying around the pitch, but Loki could see how tense he was. Even from this distance, he could see the boy looking around for the snitch. He seemed to see it at some point because he relaxed slightly. But to Loki's surprise, he didn't instantly go after it. Instead he watched dispassionately, as the Slytherin Seeker dived. Loki suddenly realised that the blonde boy was bluffing and he silently congratulated his… his… son… on being so observant.

Loki closed his eyes for a brief moment. He had a son. He had a bloody son. It had been quite a shock meeting him in that small village… and quite… coincidental. He wondered if the Norns had spun the threads of fate at the foot of Yggdrasil in a certain way. Was it fate that he had met his son?

Loki opened his eyes and stared up at Harry. He wanted to meet him… He needed to meet him. But it was too dangerous at the moment. Odin and Thor thought him dead, but Heimdall saw All and he would soon inform them. If they found out about… about Harry. Loki shuddered to think…

All of his children had been enslaved, killed, or were being hunted. His son (a wolf), Fenrir would be hunted for all eternity, Jormungand - the World Serpent - was hidden away from him, Hela, his daughter was cursed to forever keep the dead. Even Sleipnir, his son - an eight-legged ihorse - had been enslaved and was now Odin's steed. No. He had to keep Harry a secret.

If Odin found out that his son was a wizard, Harry would be brutal murdered.

With that thought, and a regretful look at Harry (who was celebrating his victory), Loki teleported away.

* * *

Thank you very much for reading!

Anonymous reviews:

 _cedar wings: thank you very much for your review! Well... I recently started reading Norse Mythology.. So I'll try to incorporate that as much as I can into the story._

l _w117149: Thank you!_


End file.
